


Farmin' Armin

by Trans_Sister_Radi0



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan, Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Stardew AU, birthday gift, wee bit late (oops)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 08:11:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18311657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trans_Sister_Radi0/pseuds/Trans_Sister_Radi0
Summary: Armin had always wanted his grandfathers farm, and absolutely loses his shit when the finds the deed to just that tucked away where he'd forgotten (as you do)He also always wanted a really hot guy to help him live out his dream, but that wouldn't be as easy to achieve...would it?





	Farmin' Armin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vidnyia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vidnyia/gifts).



> Hey, so I know I had PLENTY of time to work on this, but please excuse mistakes, because I wrote literally half of this in like three hours. I'm so tired, but I really hoe you love it. At least half as much as I love you ♥   
> Happy late birthday, E, you'll always be the Armin in my heart ♥♥♥

Armin had really, really REALLY wanted his Grandfather’s farm, and when the man had passed away ten years ago, Armin promised him on his deathbed that he would take it over when he was old enough. Expect he had forgotten; kept the envelope with the deed and key in the back of his writing desk and completely forgot it--until the day he quit his job. 

Writing for the newspaper was everything he thought he wanted once he left high school. He was dead wrong. On the three-year anniversary his pent-up boredom crashed over the wall of cheerful smiles he’d kept it all behind. The newspaper had been more shocked than outrage the  _ Armin Arlert  _ had told them off--and quite rudely, too. Several of his coworkers had nearly cheered even, having been waiting for him to drop the facade for years now. Though they had wished it had been under better circumstances--and with less tears on Armin’s part. 

So when he got home, tears still staining his cheeks from shouting like he had, he immediately started clearing out his writing desk. After all, why would he ever need to write again? The newspaper had taken a burning passion and turned it into a nausea-inducing prison. He was done, and that was that. We he reached the back of the desk, his wastebasket overflowing with old rough drafts and boredom doodles, his hand closed around the thick envelope. He pulled it out and moved to crumble it up and throw it away before he saw the crest: a little farmstead framed in a horseshoe. 

His heart stopped and his breath caught in his throat. His hands began shaking so hard he nearly dropped the package. He struggled to open the envelope without breaking the seal because he didn’t know if he would ever see it again, and finally popped it open. He stared down at what he could see of the deed. It was folded so the signature was visible from the top.

Owner: Armin Arlert. 

 

He couldn’t believe his mom was just  _ letting  _ him do this. He couldn’t believe he was back, staring out at the wildly overgrown fields with a forest on every horizon. 

The mayor chuckled, patting him on the back. “Son, you look like you’re seeing ghosts.”   
“Am I not?” Armin whispered. If he turned around he’d be looking through the very same windows he had as a child. He had loved nothing more than looking out at the green fields, dappled in sunlight like the sun shone just for them. 

He had worked in them with his grandfather only once, for his seventh birthday. His only gift that year was a shiny little trowel and he had immediately raced to the car, buckled in, and waited impatiently to be driven to his paradise--never once letting go of his trowel. 

And now he was back, and his mind couldn’t decide if it was blank, or racing so fast it would never slow enough for him to catch another thought. 

“Well, like I was saying,” the mayor continued as if Armin had heard a single word before that, “it’ll need quite a bit of touching up, but the house is still standing strong and the soil is still some of the best in Pelican Town, even if it is currently covered in brush--shouldn’t take too long to clean it out and have a proper field up and running again!” 

Armin nodded slowly. Why yes he  _ had _ listened to any and all of that! And he  _ totally _ knew why Mayor Pixis was currently walking away without explaining anything.

Pixis stopped at what Armin assumed was a rubbish bin. “If you have crops or anything else worth a buck put them in here and I’ll swing by in the morning and pick ‘em up for you.” 

_ I’ve almost made a terrible blunder, _ Armin thought.  __ ot _ a rubbish bin. _ “You got it...sir,” he said, giving a painfully awkward thumbs-up. 

Pixis just laughed and started back down the trail that led to town. “And you should really introduce yourself to the locals before all the hermit rumours start up again!” he yelled over his shoulder as he waved his goodbyes. 

“Again?” Armin squeaked. 

 

By the second day in the fields, it was made far too clear to Armin that he had less than a clue about farming. “Maybe…” He set his hoe against the house’s porch railing and peeled off his sweat-soaked overshirt. It was no more than a beige button-up tied at the bottom with the sleeves already rolled up, but it was far too heavy for this level of work, even though the spring air brought a nip of cold with its breath. “Maybe I should have learned just a little bit about farming before I moved onto a whole-ass fucking farm,” he ground out. His muscles, slight as they were, were on fire from trying to till even a small portion of his open fields in an attempt to make  _ some _ progress. It was not going well. 

He sighed and combed his fingers through his hair--it was getting to be too long it wasn’t helping the sweating. He’d convinced himself that today was the day he would go into town and meet the folks there, and maybe, due to recent epiphanies, get some farming advice. 

He didn’t want to have to struggle through endless introductions, but he took the mayor’s words seriously. He didn’t want any rumors spreading about him--and if they did, he’d rather give them better fuel than just his antisocial tendencies. 

He left his hoe on the porch and set off towards town. He wasn’t going to let his nigh-crippling fear of talking to humans™ stop him from being a good neighbor!

He stepped onto the first flagstone of Pelican Town and nearly fainted when someone actually waved to him.  _ Who just waves at a perfect stranger?  _ He cheerfully waved back. _ I feel sick.  _ “Good morning!” _ Please god let me ascend. _ He walked up to the stranger and shakily held out his hand. “I’m Armin--I just moved into the old farm to the west.” 

“Oh of course! The mayor told us all about a newcomer, but he didn’t mention that’d be such a nice young man! I’m Carla, and it’s lovely to meet you, Armin.” 

Armin was stunned into a silence he wasn’t sure he could get out of. 

“Mom, you broke the new guy,” a woman Armin’s age said as she moved to stand beside her mother. “Mikasa. I’m sorry about Mom’s devouring cheer. Don’t worry, we won’t  _ all _ adopt you immediately.”  Mikasa grabbed and shook the hand Armin had forgotten to retract. 

Armin snapped out of his daze. “Armin. It’s nice to meet you.” 

“Likewise.” Mikasa smiled very faintly, but it was genuine. Armin immediately took her for an unemotive, but very sincere person. He liked her instantly. 

The rest of the day followed the same path; overwhelming affection from the parents, while their children, most around Armin’s age, evening it out with a realistic and very comforting medley of cheerful and happily unimpressed. He liked it when people didn’t think highly of him--especially at first--it was less stressful to deal with people who didn’t put you to too-high of standards. 

But even if they seemed dismissive, they were still friendly, good people. 

He didn’t meet everyone; some were away at the time, or just in parts of the town he hadn’t been to yet, but by the end of the day, most in Pelican Town had met Armin Arlert, and he felt incredibly relieved for having gone out and introduced himself. 

And he’d had a chance to talk to others who knew a thing or two about gardening and farming and took their words to heart. He went home feeling like a new person that evening. He’d finally met people that didn’t take two years to get them to like him. He’d met new people with actual diversity in their ideas and mindsets. He’d finally met people who didn’t know the Old Him™, so they had no reason to bring it up every other conversation. 

When he got back to his farm, his heart still sank at what he knew would be an undertaking that would probably kill him, if he was being honest...but it didn’t sink nearly as much as it had that morning. “You can do this,” he said to no-one but himself. “You can do this, Armin. You’re gonna be a farmer, and you’re gonna make grandpa proud.” 

 

That morning was almost the same as last. Almost. He still broke into a fierce sweat almost immediately. He still struggled to dig up the hard dirt to find soft, fertile soil beneath. He still got scratched and poked and cut by the brambles, sharp sticks, and jagged rocks that had come to infest the whole farm. But this time he fought through it. 

He fought through the pain, and the sweat, and the debris blocking his paths in the fields. And when his watch yelled at him that it was ten in the morning, marking his fourth hour in the dirt, he collapsed on his porch, downing most of a full water bottle, and smiled. He was that much closer to getting his new home to being just that; a home. 

“Whoa. I’ve never seen someone look that utterly wrecked from hard work. Are you okay?” 

Armin spat out his mouthful of water and spun around to see a man standing somewhat awkwardly at his front gate. The man was tall, slim but with muscle under the surface, waiting to pounce, brunette, probably a little older than Armin, but not by much, and...gorgeous. Armin nearly swallowed his tongue and a small, but very loud part of his mind wished he could swallow the stranger’s. He told that part to kindly shut up. “H-hi!” he stammered out. “Yeah, I’m…I’m okay. I’m sorry who are you?” 

The man laughed, and jiggled the gate. “My name’s Jean, permission on to the grounds?” 

_ Jean _ . A woman in town, Caroline, had talked about her son Jean, who had been away at a bigger town that day. “Oh! Uh….permission granted?” Armin mentally slapped himself for being so awkward and stupid. There was a hot guy, and Armin was acting like an idiot. He really shouldn’t have been surprised with himself. “I’m Armin, by the way!” he said in a hurry. Was he that worried Jean would think him weird? Yes. Yes he was. He didn’t need another one thinking that of him. “I’m sorry, you have to lift the gate a little for it to...open.” He trailed off when Jean seamlessly worked the gate like he’d done it a million times. 

“Yeah, I, uh… I used to hang out up here when it was still abandoned, so I got used to its quirks,” Jean said, almost bashful. 

_ Oh, it’s because he  _ has _ done it a million times,  _ Armin thought.  _ He knows my home better than I do.  _ “All that time spent here and you never picked up a hoe?” Armin tried what sounded like the worst joke in his life. 

Jean smirked. “Oh, I picked up a couple, but not here.” Armin’s mouth hung loose like it was a surfer. Jean immediately flushed and waved his hands in a frantically placating gesture. “I was kidding! I thought you were trying for humor, so I gave it my best, and it did... _ not _ feel like my best.” 

Armin burst into hysterical giggles, his laughter bouncing off the awkward space between them and shattering it to dust. He laughed until his sides were splitting apart and he nearly threw up, and even Jean couldn’t help his own fits of laughter. They both lost it over their own stupidity and when they finally eased off, wiping tears from their eyes and holding the railing for support, Armin smiled. Finally at ease, and not roiling with anxiety over this tall, beautiful stranger. 

“Want a drink?” he asked, and Jean nodded eagerly. They moved inside long enough for Armin to grab some bottles from the fridge and then they were back on the porch, looking out over the open fields. Though Jean seemed more intent on the water bottle in his hand. 

“So, I’m sorry? I guess.” 

Armin raised his brows. “If you’ve wronged me, I’ve yet to know how.” 

Jean laughed softly. “No, I mean for...trespassing. I never realized someone actually own the farm.” 

Armin scoffed and nearly choked on his next breath. “Jean.  _ I _ didn’t know I owned it until two weeks ago. But, if it makes you feel better, I forgive....actually no, I don’t. Not yet” 

Jean looked beyond offended, and whether he meant it or not wasn’t important to Armin right then. 

“You look,” Armin cleared his throat, “physically able.” 

Jean closed his mouth and instead raised his brows. 

“And I need help on the farm!” Armin hurried, horrified of a misunderstanding. “So, if you’re in, you can pay me back from all your...scoundrelous behavior, by helping out around here. You look like you can actually plow with a hoe--and don’t you say a damn word on your mind, mister,” he said quickly, pointing an accusatory finger at Jean, who’d just opened his mouth. He shut it.  

“Deal,” Jean said instead, holding out his hand. 

“Oh ho! Pretty formal for a casual kidnapping,” Armin said as he took Jean’s hand and shook it. He did his best not to react to the feeling of Jean’s skin sliding over his, leaving little shocks that shot from his palm to his toes and back. He smiled. 

_ I just roped myself into more time with Hot Boy. I’ve killed myself. Fuck.  _

 

And just like that, Jean showed up every single morning; opening the gate better than Armin and waving a greeting before getting to work beside Armin with scarcely a word. Their silence was never awkward, it was companionable--until Armin would inevitably sneak glances at Jean. 

Jean was always so stone-faced, but in a peaceful, contented way. He never seemed angry, just lost in his work. Armin found it incredibly attractive. 

They worked well together, and Armin realized he was more comfortable around Jean after only a week than he was around his own family after twenty-three years. He couldn’t tell if that infuriated or elated him. Probably both. 

But if he set aside his infatuation, Armin was astounded by just how helpful Jean was. 

After weeks of hard labour, Armin found himself less-frequently running to Jean for help. His muscles, slight as they were, hardened until he could go all morning with a hoe (just...don’t.) He sweat just a little bit less, though still looked like a waterfall next to Jean, who simply said, “Yeah, I don’t sweat much.” Armin would just narrow his eyes and move on to his beans. There were still plenty of times Armin  _ would _ run to Jean for help though, and Jean would just smile and grumble good-naturedly before helping him however he could. 

Armin felt like he should have felt coddled, like he was asking too much, as many people in his old life would have jumped to agree with. They’d always say, “if you can’t do something yourself how do you ever expect it to get done?” With Jean’s help, that’s how. And it worked. “You can’t depend on people for everything. If you did where would you be the moment nobody comes to your call?” Armin didn’t ask Jean to help with everything. Just what he couldn’t do himself, which was a surprisingly small amount, especially with Jean’s encouragement. And he  _ could _ depend on Jean for what he couldn’t do himself, just as Jean would occasionally ask for his help as well. And no, Jean had yet to abandon him in his hour of need. 

“You’re overwatering your parsnips,” Jean said over Armin’s shoulder, making Armin jump out of his skin and nearly throw his watering can into the next town over. 

“Jean!” he wheezed, clutching at his chest with a shaking hand. “Please! I have a  _ fragile constitution. _ ” 

Jean threw his head back and laughed. Armin stared his slender, exposed throat as it bobbed with laughter and had another small heart attack. 

“Anyway,” Jean continued, “you’re really gonna overwater those poor things.” He gently took the can from Armin’s hands and starting actually moving up and down the row of plants, rather than what Armin had been doing--standing, lost in thought (more like lost in thot, huehue) watering a single plant for nearly a minute. 

Armin’s skin tingled in all the right but wrong ways. He rubbed his hand and stood there, completely unknowing of how to not seem like an overly awkward buffoon. “Sorry, I was just...thinking.”    
“About what?” Jean asked, coming to water the next row. 

“Nothing!” Armin yelled quickly. “That I...left the water cooking inside and must go check on out it right now immediately!” He turned on his heel and hurried inside. Oddly enough he had in fact left the water “cooking,” and rushed to turn off the flame. “Why did I even have water boiling in the first place?”

He poured two cups of boiling water and took one out to Jean as a peace offering for his bumbling.    
“Thanks…” Jean looked down at the very hot water. “Do you not like me?” 

Armin would have spat his water if he any inclination to actually drink any of it in the heat of the day--also he had completely forgotten to add teabags. “NO!” he scrambled to say. “God no I think you’re great! P-positively spiffing… I just,” he sat down in the dirt and Jean seemed to have no problem following him down. “I never had...friends, growing up. Sure, I had people I knew, kids I would play with--and even after that, after school, I had coworkers I got along with. But none of them ever seemed to actually be my friend. The only people that hung out with me were girls my age who only seemed to do it out of sympathy. I was the Pity Pal. I gave people extra social points because they let Armin near them.” Armin started to curl up on himself and kicked a stone lightly. Jean look horrified, but Armin was intent on not looking at him. “You’re really nice, and I really like spending time with you, and I don’t want you to see me as that kid nobody wanted around. I wanted you to see me as less awkward and lonely, and yet I’m telling you all of this and am five seconds away from using my tears to continue over-watering this poor parsnip.” 

Armin was wrong. It was only three seconds before Jean put his arm around Armin’s shoulder and the dam behind his eyes broke. He started crying, and the tears wouldn’t stop. He was doing exactly what he never wanted to do in front of Jean. He never wanted to open this much and seem this weak. 

But Jean didn’t seem to care. His arm was held awkwardly and hesitantly, but with so much will to not let go. Armin could have pushed him off, insisting that he needed to go check on more burning water, but he couldn’t bring himself to crawl out of that warm embrace. Instead he laid his head on Jean’s shoulder and let his tears leave wet streaks to Jean’s shirt. Neither seemed to mind, and Jean’s arm around him tightened, and it didn’t feel like it was out of discomfort, but the opposite.    
“I’m not drinking this water, by the way. It’s way too hot out, and I’m also not insane like that,” Jean said, and Armin burst into laughter. 

“Same.” 

 

That night Armin felt beyond bad about having wept on Jean, so he invited him over for dinner. Jean accepted and said he’d even bring dessert, so now Armin could take his mind off his worry and just  _ cook _ . Cooking calmed Armin’s nerves more than having his hands in the dirt, and as much as farming could overwhelm him, he did love it beyond words. But it was still a distant second to keeping busy in the kitchen. With the heat of the stove to keep him warm, and batter, or dressing, or  _ anything _ covering his hands to distract him from the noise and bustle of the outside world, he felt he could truly be himself. That was another wonderful part of having a secluded farmstead as he did, it felt like a giant kitchen, keeping him to himself and having something to make, to live off of. And Jean, of course. But Jean never felt like part of the noise and bustle, he felt like...home. 

Armin shook himself and pulled a pack of pork-chops out of the fridge, and prepped them in the batter he’d fry them in.  _ Don’t go thinking those thoughts, Armin. They’ll only lead you to further loneliness. _ Every single thought of Jean from the start had been of affection and infatuation. Armin didn’t  _ want _ that. He just wanted a friend, a family away from family, a person he liked who liked him.  _ That sounds like a partner, idiot. _ If he was one step further from metal stability he would have told himself aloud to shut up. 

The sun kissed the horizon as Jean opened the gate and stepped onto the farm. Armin was outside, sitting on his porch and watching the sunset. He waved Jean over and neither spoke as the sun sank ever lower. 

Armin was jittery and Jean seemed impatient for...something by the time they turned and went inside. 

Armin moved into the kitchen and Jean followed him. He seemed unsure of what to do, and he was holding a bag that Armin could only assume held dessert. 

“Just set it on the table, we can worry about it later,” Armin said as he poured oil into a skillet and readied the pork. “Can you chop the carrots for the salad?” 

“Carrots? Salad?” Jean made a face of comically pure disgust. “You’re making me eat bunny food?” 

Armin stared at him in complete awe. “You work on a  _ farm. _ ” 

Jean stared back. “I was  _ kidding _ .” 

When the pork was finally finished and Jean had tossed the salad, they sat down and silence enveloped them. Armin desperately wanted to apologize for earlier--it wasn’t every day you had a hot guy on your farm just so you could cry on him. 

They ate in continued silence until Armin broke down. “Jean I am so, so,  _ so _ sorry about this afternoon!” He set down his silverware and bowed his head in shame, unable to meet Jean’s eyes. “I know you said it was okay but I really should’ve been stronger than that and I slowed us down for the rest of the day and I don’t even think making you dinner made up for it and the pork’s a little dry and-” Jean’s arms around him shut him up in a heartbeat. 

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Jean said, his voice muffled by Armin’s hair. “All you did was open up about your shit life, and then you make this amazing meal, and  _ apologize _ ?” he pulled back to study Armin at arm’s length. “You really are some kind of crazy, aren’t you?” 

Armin laughed through his budding tears and pulled Jean back into the hug, burying his face in Jean’s strong chest. 

Jean held him there before pulling away again, cupping Armin’s face and looking deep into his eyes--as if trying to find something there. “Are you sure you’re going to be-” Jean cut out when Armin pulled him down and sealed their lips together. 

Armin couldn’t stop himself from ignoring the screaming parts in his brain, both jumping for joy and wailing in pure terror over what he had just done, and melted into Jean’s shocked embrace. Their kiss lasted for what felt like hours, and Armin treasured every millisecond of it. But far too soon he pulled himself away and he and Jean shared a moment of silence, staring at each other in bewilderment. 

“Oh my god I’m so sorry I didn’t ask or anything I just jumped in and-” Jean took a page from Armin’s book and silenced him with a kiss, this time there was no hesitation. Both melted immediately into each other’s lips and Armin’s fingers tangled in Jean’s short hair as Jean pulled them even more tightly together. 

This time Armin gave in to his bodily reaction and moaned openly at the feeling of Jean finally,  _ finally _ against him. 

They stayed there, Armin nearly sitting on the edge of the table as he gave in to everything he’d wanted for more than a month; Jean. 

When they broke apart again, they were both flushed and panting, Jean resting his forehead on Armin’s. Armin had never felt this content--or this panicked. 

He suddenly pulled away and stood awkwardly several feet away from Jean. “Uh…I should really go…” And with that, he grabbed his coat and fled out the front door. He stopped on his front porch when he realized it was just that-- _ his _ porch. Of  _ his _ house. He had run out of his own home after something truly wonderful had happened. “Why the hell did I just do that?” 

“I was gonna ask the same thing, but more politely,” Jean said from behind him. 

Armin hung his head and turned around. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me.”    
Jean walked over and leaned against the railing, beside Armin. “You mean when you kissed 

me, or when you ran away?” The question was so blunt, and Jean looked so interested with the twilit sky, that Armin somehow felt more at peace in an instant. 

“Both. I mean, I’ve wanted to kissed you since we met, but I really don’t know how to explain fleeing like that.” 

Jean laughed. “‘Fleeing’ is a good word for it, I guess. And I know you’re just scared. You’re scared about me rejecting you, about me not liking you back, or us not working in the long run. Really, there’s a lot to be afraid of. I understand.” He raised an eyebrow and grinned cheekily at Armin. “Since we met, huh? Damn, boy, you got it  _ bad _ .” 

“Shut up!” Armin slapped his arm and they both laughed until Armin tugged on Jean’s sleeve and rested his forehead on Jean’s shoulder. “Please don’t tease me,” he whispered into Jean’s flannel. “And please...please let me down easy.” 

“What?” Jean wrapped his arm around Armin and pulled him closer. “Why would I let you down, easy or otherwise?” 

“Because I really like you, and…” Armin buried his face even further into Jean’s arm “And I want to be with you, but I understand if you don’t. So just let me down easy, okay?” 

“Hmmm...no.” 

Armin looked up at Jean and tilted his head. “What?” 

“I said ‘no,’” Jean said as he leaned down and tilted Armin’s chin up as he kissed him. It was slow and careful and kind, and if Armin could have bottled up his elation at just how much affection Jean poured into the kiss he could have sold it as a blimp. 

Jean pulled away just enough to speak against Armin’s lips. “I really like you, too, and if you’ll have me, I’d love to be your boyfriend.” 

_ Oh lord you have let me ascend.  _ “O-okay,” Armin breathed out, his pupils blown out and his brain blown to smithereens. “I’ll...I’ll have you.” He shut up and Kissed Jean again. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to get very addicted to Jean’s lips very quickly. Who the hell was he kidding? He already was. 

 

“I can’t believe it took you a month to lose and jump me,” Jean said as he watched a firefly drunkenly hover around a beanpole, his arm holding Armin securely snuggled against him. 

It was later that night and they had finally pried themselves off of each other on the premise that would talk it out before diving back in. 

“I did  _ not  _ ‘jump you,’ I very calmly gave into every cell in my body and...I may have jumped you.” armin condeded and Jean laughed. “And it took me a month, Jean, because I’m a shy little gremlin and you know that.” Armin wriggled happily deeper into Jean’s side. “ _ You _ on the other hand, have plenty of confidence and I’d wager I wasn’t exactly subtle about my pining.” 

Jean went quiet and Armin felt that he had hit a nerve.    
“I don’t like putting myself out there, especially to men…”  _ Oh _ . “I had a boyfriend, about two months before you showed up. From the city over the mountains--that’s right. Smalltown boy meets big city stud and they fall deeply in love and he…left. No warning. No note. I just wake up one morning and his car’s gone. Three years of happiness followed by sudden and immediate nothingness.I still haven’t heard from him and it’s been more than three months. I don’t know how you can do that to someone, but…” He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “That’s why I didn’t try with you.” 

“Not meaning to ignore the horrible thing that happened to you, or how I, a smol bean, want to find and kill another human being, but does that mean you  _ wanted  _ to try with me?” Armin blushed and smiled up at Jean, who flushed and avoided eye contact. “That’s gay, my dude.” 

Jean hung his head and laughed. “No kidding?” 

Armin pulled Jean by the collar until his lips were within kissing distance. “Full homo,” he whispered as he kissed Jean again. Jean laughed into the kiss but Armin was already long gone again; fully lost in Jean’s taste and the feel of his firm, soft lips against his own. 

 

Armin woke up to find Jean’s arm around his waist and head in his shoulder-nook. His face flushed so hot he could fry an egg off of it but he couldn’t bring himself to move. He both didn’t want to wake Jean up or lose the embrace. What if last night was a fluke? What if Jean wasn’t really into him?  _ You dumb idiot, what part of your overworking brains is even considering that? _ The voice in his head yelled, for once the voicing the smart thing. He sighed and simply leaned back in Jean’s arms, which was when his body finally started to wake up, reminding him how sore his vagina was. He groaned as last night’s memories came back. Jean’s mouth wasn’t just good for kissing and bad jokes, after all, and neither was his... “Oh my god I’m such a slut,” he grumbled to himself. “Not even the first real date and you wake up next to him. Oh God I had sex in Grandpa’s house!” he yelled, sitting bolt upright. “What would he even say?” 

“According to Pixis, about the same as you,” Jean mumbled behind him. “And apparently the gay slut gene skips a generation.” 

Armin’s mouth snapped shut, suddenly thinking about a lot of things he remembered of his grandfather. “Wow, I’m really kind of an idiot for not realizing that until now. And  _ hey!” _ He slapped Jean’s chest and lay back down on him. “I’m evidently not the only one.” 

Jean nodded vigorously. “No no no you’re right, but I’m not the one denying it.” 

Armin kissed him quickly and Hopped out of bed, immediately dropping to the floor as his legs gave out. “Ow.” 

Jean lurched forward to catch him--way too late--and leaned over the side of the bed to see Armin getting to his feet, albeit slow this time. “Are you alright?” 

“Peachy,” Armin chirped. “And maybe next time remind me that you kept your promise.” He walked out of the room and heard Jean shout, “what promise?” 

“The one about me not being able to feel my legs in the morning,” Armin said over his shoulder, just loud enough for Jean to hear, and also for Armin’s face to heat up again at his own words. 

He made a fresh pot of coffee, fried a few eggs, (though not on his face) and took them back to Jean, who only just rooting around for his pants. “Nuh uh,” he said, pushing Jean back into bed. “We can find our clothes  _ after _ breakfast.” Armin’s gaze drifted southward. “But you can stay above the covers, if you want.” 

“You  _ do  _ know you strutted around and made breakfast fully nude, right?” Jean asked, waving a fork vaguely downward. 

Armin squeaked and nearly dove into bed, hurrying to pull the sheets around at least his bottom half. 

Jean laughed, again.  _ He laughs so much more often lately… _ “I don’t know how you had the confidence to do it, honestly.” Jean leaned in to kiss his nose. “But it’s really hot that you did.” 

“I’ll be honest I only did it because I’m numb and forgot,” Armin admitted into a forkful of egg. 

“Speaking of,” Jean said, several minutes later as he was pulling on his pants and clearing away the breakfast tray. “I suppose I’m on my own in the fields today, what with my coworker being dead from the waist down.” 

“Oh yeah...well I’ll be sure to cheer to on form the porch.” Armin smiled up at Jean from bed, not planning on moving again for a long time. “And don’t sell yourself short--I don’t think I can move my arms much, either.” 

“And yet that doesn’t sound at all like a complaint.” Jean smirked and leaned down for a kiss before taking the dishes to the sink and getting ready for a day of work. 

Armin nearly swooned. “God, we’re like a married couple--I  _ fucking _ love it!” He kicked his feet happily under the blanket and buried his face in his hands. 

 

Sasha jubiously slammed Jean’s beer against their table and followed up by gently placing Armin’s tea. They both thanked her and she stomped off to take someone else’s order. “She does happy things so angrily,” Armin mused, watching her laugh and slap a customer--Levi, to be exact--on the back as she laughed at something he’d said and immediately slap his back more when started choking. 

“You should Eren. He makes yoga look like martial arts.” Jean rolled his eyes and smiled. 

“Truth,” Armin said, having seen the man earlier that day feeding ducks like they were trying to kill him, and vice-versa. “But anyway--I mean it! You should move in!” 

It had been only two weeks since they had started dating, and that night had consisted of Armin dragging Jean to the tavern, same as every Friday, and begging him to move in with him. 

“It’s been  _ two weeks,  _ baby.” Armin visibly shivered at the pet-name. “What if it’s too early?” 

“Okay,” he started, “normally I would agree; two weeks is  _ way _ to hasty.” Jean raised a brow. “ _ But _ you’ve been talking to me since before we met about how you want to move out of your parents’ house again, and it’s not like you don’t spend literally every night at our--my--place, anyway.” Armin brushed some of his bangs out of his face and hope either didn’t notice, or at least liked, his slip-up. “So why not? It’d be like living together for ten years but saying signing a marriage certificate is taking it too fast!” 

“I resent that!” Pixis yelled from the bar. “He and I just weren’t the type to sign our expressions of love over to the government!” 

“You  _ are _ the government!” Jean and Armin yelled in unison and the mayor just waved them off and went back to his drink and conversation with Sasha.

“So what do ya say?” Armin asked, his smile stretching as far as it could, the hope in his eyes shining like beacons of guilt trips. 

Jean let his head fall back. “Ugh, fine!” He shot Armin a playful smirk as the whole tavern exploded in cheers.    
“Y’all gotta mind your own business!” they yelled together again. 

“Come on, let’s go somewhere we won’t have to worry about  _ eavesdroppers _ ,” Jean said with a grin over his shoulder as he and Armin finished their drinks and headed out the doors. 

“I guess our next step is getting married, huh,” Armin joked as he and Jean walked along the twilit riverbanks. 

“Let’s wait at least another two weeks, eh?” Jean said, his arm around Armin’s waist. “I think my parents would keel over if I said I was moving out and getting married on the same day.” 

“I’ll try and hold out that long,” Armin laughed, plopping his head on Jean’s shoulder and kicking pebbles into the river. “But you know how bad I am with waiting…” 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Well there you have it! Half done in three weeks, the other in less than a full evening, and I'm too tired to even check if it's a noticeable dropoff in quality lol   
> (The hoe(hope) typo was accidental, but there ain't no dang way I'm fixing it. And if you want that deleted scene™ (you know which one) you're gonna have to give me a decent reason to touch a keyboard again for at least a month ♥
> 
> Comments and kdos are always appreciated, but not as much as sleep ♥


End file.
